Student Affairs (JiKook)
by SYNdicate 930
Summary: AU. One-shots of Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook, and their attempts at surviving undergrad, and their unruly libidos and constant desire to fuck each other into dust.
1. Snow White and the Seven Shots

**Title:** Student Affair.  
 **Author:** SYNdicate 930.  
 **Summary:** AU. One-shots of Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook, and their attempts at surviving undergrad, and their unruly libidos and constant desire to fuck each other into dust.

 **NOTE:** All one-shots are in the same timline and happen out of order, but will make references to past/future events of one-shots. Ie., the the chronological order of events by chapter could be 2, 1, 4, 7 etc., even though the story is presented as 1, 2, 3, 4, etc. Hopefully that makes sense? I have an Aokise with this name and idea on my account, but let's just forget about that because I'm trash

Costumes are their job title things in DOPE.

 **Saturday, October 29, 20:44**

"What did you say you were supposed to be?"

"I'm a private investigator. Can't you tell?" Taehyung does a small spin, shooting an over-confident 'chu' with his index finger and thumb pressed together. Jungkook rolls his eyes and dodges the kiss Taehyung blows in his direction. "Hey, that was a special air-kiss, asshole—"

"Private investigator? That's so specific. No one's going to get that." Jungkook furrows his brows. "Why the shorts?"

"What's wrong with the shorts? They pull the outfit together."

"Your knees are gross to look at."

"Then don't fucking look at them." Taehyung replies, shoving into Jungkook's arms an unopened can of beer. Touchy. The aluminum freezes the tips of his fingers and he jolts as it presses against his forearms. "It's more creative than going as a cop for the third Halloween in a row."

He has a point, but Jungkook doesn't admit it. "It'll be the first time Jimin sees me like this, though."

"Good thing, too. I hear he likes men in uniform."

 **23:20**

Jungkook is in dire need of an extreme sum of piquant liquor to compensate for his sour attitude and piercing sobriety. The music is too loud, and the DJ doesn't seem to realize how some songs should not be remixed. Like any ballad or slow song, for example. Though, no one else seems to realize how shitty "Eyes, Nose, Lips" sounds as a dub-step track mixed with "Pick Me". Just having arrived to Hoseok's Halloween party, Jungkook attempts to rationalize the complexity and irregularity of Jimin's costume. The bandages don't emphasize any part of his physique, and blur a large portion of his face–one of Jungkook's favorite features. Not to mention the angle of Jimin's picture through his apartment bathroom mirror hides his body from the waist down. Why a mummy, of all things?

Chugging a beer, Jungkook grabs a hold of Hoseok. "Have you seen Jimin-hyung anywhere?"

Hoseok jumps out of his skin. He raises an index finger to the area behind Jungkook, towards the crowded space near the speakers and small dance floor. "Pretty sure he's somewhere there."

With a deep sigh, Jungkook pats Hoseok's back appreciatively, who gives him an encouraging nudge with his shoulder, and tosses his empty can for another beer, allowing himself a prolonged swig and then trashing the emptied aluminum immediately. With two beers in hand, Jungkook forces his way through a trio of drunken girls (who were admittedly solid sevens at best) taking selfies together, and flock of guys from their volleyball team. One of them jumps and elbows Jungkook's temple, leaving him more shocked from the impact than angered at his idiocy. Fucking Chanyeol—Kyungsoo ought to keep that boy on a leash.

With smiling mahogany eyes, Jungkook identifies Jimin instantaneously. Purposefully bumping shoulders with him, Jungkook holds a chilled can in his direction. "Oi. Finish up your beer, I've brought you another one."

Hiccup. Giggle. Giggle.

"Thanks, Jungkookie! Let's do shots of tequila in a sec. I think I saw Hani pouring some for herself and Solji."

Giggle. Giggle. Hiccup.

The slurring of his voice leaves Jungkook perplexed, dazed by the messy pronunciation, rogue color of Jimin's cheeks and sudden yearning for tequila. Their last experience with tequila hadn't been the best the morning after, but he's never met a drunk as fun as Park Jimin. Jungkook hands off the can. "I thought you were coming as a mummy. You were dressed like one in that picture you sent me."

"I thought about it," Jimin starts, clicking the beer can open with his index finger, quickly sipping up the bubbles that foam out before they spill over. "It's cool in theory, but too much of a pain to go through with it."

"So what are you now?" Jungkook eyes the black shoes, dress pants, and tucked in button up, held back by a leather belt around his slim waist. The top button is undone to boast the persuasive flesh of his throat from his sharp mandible to just below his polished collar bones. His tie hangs loosely beneath the white collar and down his chest, and Jungkook trails the obsidian fabric with his eyes and a casual sip of his drink. He eyes the fit of Jimin's pants graciously, noting the tempting and compelling swell at his crotch. Damn, do those pants fit him nicely.

"I'm an office worker." Jimin says simply. He follows suit with a sip of his drink.

"That's really lame."

"Look who's talking, mister officer. There are, like, four other cops. At least I can say mine's more unique than yours."

"I look hotter."

"Debatable." Jungkook slaps his bicep jokingly, before Jimin downs his beverage in a matter of seconds.

"Hey, now, take it easy there." Jungkook raises his voice, just barely over the music, as he watches him finish his beer as quickly as he starts the next.

"I have a surprisingly high tolerance, you know."

Hiccup. Giggle. Hiccup.

Jungkook isn't convinced, and Jimin can see it in the way his eyes look him over. "What's with that face? Seriously. I can handle it."

"I just don't want to have to carry you back to your apartment." Jungkook states sarcastically, shrugging despite the notion becoming increasingly appealing by the second; how he'd love to get Jimin alone and all to himself. His mood lightens, but not markedly. He doesn't have anything to talk to Jimin about, and he's still recoiling from their last encounter.

Jungkook sips at his drink contemplatively, wondering how much longer and how many more beers it'll take to feel even the faintest buzz in his face. His teetotal state makes the cramped atmosphere more stifling than it truly is, made markedly vexatious by his poor attitude and cynical expectations. Somewhere behind him, he can hear Taehyung and Hoseok shouting at Namjoon and Yoongi to take shots.

"So, what brings you here? Pretty girls?" Jimin inquires, to which Jungkook snickers. He'd be a liar to deny it, though he can't say it's his only motivation for coming. Jimin is quite the looker, too; much more alluring, much more his type. "I swore I saw you staring at some girls over there."

"Don't misunderstand me. I wasn't staring. I was just admiring all the different costumes." Smooth. The doubt on Jimin's face is clear, but he can't entirely prove he's lying. He agreed to come because it's Hoseok's party, really. Attractive women in revealing clothing—that's merely a large bonus. However, Jungkook has yet to encounter someone who's really caught his eye, even in the vague glow of the dimmed lights, with vast amounts of skin exposed that could leave anyone looking captivating. As someone physically inclined, leaving with someone on his arm is child's play. Another sip. But, presently, he greatly prefers Jimin's company over a one-night stand he'll surely regret. Though, Jungkook is certain he wouldn't regret it if he were to leave with Jimin on his arm. "I'm also here to haul your dumb ass home when you're done. You'll thank me in the morning. Until then, let's get trashed."

Raising his drink, Jimin taps it enthusiastically against his friend's. Cheers.

"By the way, just because I'm making sure you get home, doesn't mean I'll nurse you all night. Cops don't baby sit. And I'm not here to baby sit anyone." Which is a lie. He'd take of Jimin all night if he needs to, but decides to play distant and cool.

"Hey, I never need to be baby sat when I drink, but okay. Officer Jungkook over here isn't playing babysitter tonight." Except for maybe the tall girl who saunters past. Nodding in her direction idly to Jimin, Jungkook watches her through the corner of his eye, rapidly sipping at his beer as he watches her thighs–pale, smooth, thin, with enough meat on her bones that lead to a perky rear hidden beneath a petticoat and short skirt– and how her short black hair bounces after her slim, athletic body. Jungkook catches a glimpse of her ample breasts pressed against the colorful material of her top, and chokes on his beverage at the unassuming smile Seokjin gives him as his eyes trail upward. Busy maintaining the party and Hoseok's apartment (which he and Taehyung are presently destroying), Seokjin ambles by with empty cups and beer cans in hand. Jungkook shakes his head. Gross.

"Hey, Jungkookie and Jungkook's friend!" Seokjin greets, adjusting his fake boobs in his costume before returning to cleaning after Hoseok and Taehyung.

"What was Jin-hyung just wearing?" Jungkook mumbles and shakes his head. He must be drunker than he thought.

Jimin laughs. "You know him?"

"Yep. He was always an interesting guy." Jungkook tosses his can into the recycling bin behind him easily. Jungkook quickly tries to pull Jimin's beer away from his mouth. "You might want to slow down with your drink. I said get trashed, not 'get so drunk you wake up in the trash.'"

Jimin finishes his drink with a satisfied sigh, holding Jungkook's glance defiantly. The seriousness of his face is interrupted by the slight curl at the corners of his mouth, as if holding back his laughter. He can hold his liquor despite Jungkook's obvious doubt. Jimin is by no means a small fellow, with no drinking experience—he can handle it to some degree. Jimin tosses his beer can at the trash bin behind him confidently, only to miss it entirely, knocking against the edge of it before rolling back towards his feet. Awkwardly, Jimin bends over to place it neatly atop the growing pile of cans. Jungkook pretends he doesn't see, for Jimin's sake.

"Let's go play a drinking game, mister cop, what do you say about that?"

"Uh... Sure." Is Jungkook's only response. He wasn't in the mood for a drinking game at the moment, especially if that meant joining beer pong or Hoseok and Taehyung's body shot competition in the kitchen. But, with that look in Jimin's eyes, who is he to deny him? Girls appear from behind Jimin, pawing at them and calling them over with their sweet voices and playful figures. Two fives, and a six—maybe a six and a half, Jungkook can't quite tell with her ninja mask hiding her face from the eyes down, but that cinched waist, wide hips and thin set of milky thighs are definitely a six on their own.

"A drinking game? Can we join too?" A sexualized version of a Pikachu purrs into Jimin's ear. Jealously swells deep in his chest as her friends giggle in unison. "It'll be lots of fun."

"Sure! You can join us for a drinking game and watch me beat this dumbass." Jimin offers. The girls become noticeably excited and Jungkook's shoulders sag; he really isn't in the mood for party games tonight. There's no way out of this, Jimin doesn't seem the least bit interested in him, and the only real hot girl at this party is Seokjin. Tonight is already a write off before having started.

"Fine. What game? Ladies' choice." He states.

 **Sunday, October 30, 01:47**

"What in the world convinced you taking seven shots was a good idea?" Jungkook chides Jimin lightly, who is hunched over on the sidewalk clutching his stomach.

"If you mess up in sam-yook-gu, you have to take a shot. I suck at it, but it's the rules."

"If you knew you suck at sam-yook-gu, and mess up each time, why would you keep agreeing to play after the fourth shot?" He rubs Jimin's shoulder in an attempt to be somewhat comforting, but ultimately recoils at the harsh noise he produce while dry-heaving. "I leave you alone for, like, ten minutes to be Taehyung's beer-pong partner and I come back and you were already seven shots in."

"Seven shots in and three cans of beer as chase."

"What were you thinking—"

"Don't be so harsh on him, Jungkook."

"I'm sorry. I just—he's so drunk. I want him to be alright."

"He probably doesn't get to party like this often." Seokjin admonishes. He crouches next to him, patting and rubbing at his shoulders and back. Jimin continues to swear he's sober, even as he coughs and spits. "We'll help you to the car when you're ready, Jimin. If you need to throw up it's okay, I have water if you need."

"I swear I'm fine, I'm just tired." Jimin says. He straightens his legs shakily. Jungkook catches him as he stumbles backwards. His skin burns through his white button up and he's missing his necktie. Last time Jungkook saw it, he swore it was strapped around Hoseok's forehead clumsily. It'll find its way back to Jimin somehow, he's sure. Seokjin straightens the front of his skirt as he stands up and helps Jungkook lead Jimin to the car. It's amazing how well he's managed to keep up with the night in heels, Jungkook thinks. Jimin scrutinizes Seokjin closely on their way to the vehicle. "Wow, you're actually really pretty to look at."

The compliment catches Jungkook off guard, but not Seokjin. "Thank you."

"If you were a girl, or even a guy—I'm not sure what you are—I would fuck—"

They unlock the car, and the two haul the poor man into the passenger seat. Jungkook wastes no time in strapping Jimin in with the seat-belt, and forces him to drink from the bottle of water Seokjin brought. No one wants to know where you were going with that sentence, Jungkook thinks to himself. Jimin drinks about a quarter of it before he decides he's had enough, and the two agree that it's sufficient for now. Jungkook thanks Seokjin for helping him take care of Jimin before running around to the driver's side .

"Make sure he finishes that and drinks more when he gets home, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah."

 **02:09**

Jungkook is amazed with himself. He had somehow managed to maneuver Jimin out of his seat, onto his back in a sloppy piggy-back, and into the lobby of his apartment. He's lost the water Seokjin gave them earlier, but Jungkook can always pour Jimin a much needed glass when they get to his suite. The chandelier in the lobby above them glows warmly, dozens of glass ornaments adorning the golden frame like stalagmites, sharp, intimidating, yet sophisticatedly so.

The floors are so polished; the light reflected by the tiles blinds him momentarily as Jimin snores away against his shoulder. Several pairs of leather couches separated by rounded coffee tables face each other on either side of him. He's only been over once or twice—three times maybe, though that would be pushing it. In the centre of the lobby is the receptionist desk, where the receptionist, with her hair tied in a tight bun and lips dyed rouge glares at him questionably, her stare slowly sliding to his left to eye the tuff of orange hair on Jungkook's shoulder. He turns to the side to reveal Jimin in all his flushed and inebriated glory, hoping it would lessen her suspicions of him.

The receptionist remains silent, returning to typing away at her computer with pristine French manicured nails and such an elegant jawline, Jungkook pauses briefly, in contemplation. Before making any advances on her, it would definitely be in his best interest to be by himself. Or, at least without an unconscious man on his back.

He treks to the elevator wordlessly. No one joins their ride to the thirteenth floor. Exiting the elevator, Jungkook remembers Jimin's apartment as the one at the very end of the hall on his left—the door down the hall with a small stain on the hallway carpet from Jimin's birthday. For the shits and giggles, he places Jimin on the stain, and rests his head of bright orange hair gently against the wall as he searches his pockets for his keys. Nothing says casual like searching an unconscious person's pockets.

After unlocking the door, he carries Jimin the way he'd seen Baekhyun carry Taeyeon at their wedding, against his chest easily, though, despite his small frame, Jimin is a lot heavier and taller than Taeyeon is. Jungkook struggles into the dark apartment. He kicks the door shut behind him and slips their shoes off, placing Jimin softly on the couch in the living room before scanning the space for a light switch through the moonlight. There's one by the door.

"I feel awful." The lights come on.

"And whose fault is that?" He tosses back playfully.

"Yours." Jimin answers as Jungkook walks towards him. It feels oddly intimate, the pink in Jimin's face, the disheveled hair, the somewhat sensual position he shifts into, resting his weight against his elbows, legs parted very slightly, almost invitingly. His attention is caught by the small bulge in the front of his dress pants.

"I didn't tell you to take seven shots." Jungkook replies. Or use beer as chase. "Besides, you only remember seven—who knows how many you actually had. At one point, you'd forgotten my name and called me 'Kookie' instead."

"What? I know your name. Jung Jeonkook."

"Jeon Jung-kook."

"Same thing." Silence fills the awkward gap as Jimin fidgets with his shirt wordlessly. Through the corner of his eyes, Jungkook watches as Jimin, noticeably uncomfortable, undoes the top three buttons of his shirt. "So… Is Snow White single?"

His eyes snap up to Jimin's face. "Who?"

"That friend of yours who was dressed as Snow White. He's really hot."

"Yeah, he's single. But he's super straight. Good luck." I've tried. Jimin emits a displeasured noise in his throat, before rolling onto his side and shutting his eyes. He mumbles something that sounds like "lame" under his breath as Jungkook climbs onto the couch next to him, intimacy ruined by Jimin's apparent attraction to Seokjin—but who is he to blame? Seokjin turns heads no matter where he goes. It baffles Jungkook to know he's remained single his entire life. "Hey, don't fall asleep there. If you're going to sleep, sleep in your bed."

"I'm so tired." Jimin whines. With half-lidded eyes, the warm hue of the light by the door accentuates Jimin's aegyo-sal, he raises his arms in a welcoming manner, hands wimp at their respective, fragile wrists. "Jungkookie, carry me."

Jungkook's latent response is a quick roll of his lightly lined eyes. The black eyeliner has begun to dwindle into a smudged blur, affixing a sybaritic maturity to his still adolescent features, but yields to the realization that Jimin has him seized and imploring in the palm of his hand. And it's been like that since he first saw him.

One second Jimin is this exhausted figure slumped over on the living couch, and the next he is the incubus of Jungkook's fancy, sprawled, upon the blindingly bleached white sheets of his mattress. The image thrusts Jungkook into a galvanized stupor, incapable of conjuring innumerable visions of his mouth on Jimin's magnetic lips, that unjustly persuasive figure, and their flesh oscillating forcing the springs to sing amidst covetous moans and spasmodic respirations. A pre-emptive air hangs over Jungkook, retreats to the door frame, slanting superficially. Ember resting in the pit of his stomach may become enflamed at any second, at any given glance directed his way, at any inviting movement; but he knows he mustn't, he could never cross physical boundaries with someone so inebriated and intemperate.

Redirecting his scrutiny, Jungkook examines the spotless bedroom with crossed arms. With such an effervescent demeanor and, at times, inane bouts of refractory banter, one would have never matched such a pristine space with a happily insouciant spirit like Jimin.

A part of him wants to laugh, for Jimin's room, and, come to think of it, entire apartment resembles the likeness of an IKEA display; so expertly coordinated, though without the clutter of accessories and obnoxious red and yellow price tags. The walls and surfaces are relatively bare, with merely necessities appearing in his view—a closed laptop upon an immaculate black desk, desk lamp and adorable orange mug—the same color as his hair—filled with scissors, and various pens and pencils. On the floor is his familiar school bag, and, aside from his desk, the only furniture to fill his room are his bed, a demure night stand, laundry basket, and leather computer chair. The simplicity is as refreshing as it is admittedly embarrassing. Jungkook can't recall the last time he'd properly tidied his apartment—though, mere notion of arriving to an orderly home is dashed by the image of Taehyung in front of the television in his god-awful kigurumi.

Jimin asks that Jungkook shut his closet door, to which he complies silently. He seizes this opportunity to peer into Jimin's closet. The further he moves into his room, the more it smells like laundry and Jimin's eccentric cologne. Peeking over a shoulder, hand on the mirrored sliding door edge, Jungkook inquires, "Do you want to change into pajamas or something?"

"I didn't think of that." Jimin, now drowning beneath his thick comforter, props himself upon his elbows. "Pass me a t-shirt."

"Any one in particular?" Jungkook turns to gaze into the shallow closet. Despite the tame atmosphere of his apartment, Jungkook acknowledges the colors, quirks, diversity, and endearingly Jimin flare of his repertoire. When he glances over his shoulder, Jungkook is gifted with an alluring angle of Jimin unbuttoning and slipping off his white shirt off his athletic shoulders, carelessly discarding the wrinkled material onto the floor beside the bed. He had never seen Jimin shirtless, his delinquent imagination constantly striving to create the perfect body to equal his charming face.

"Doesn't matter." They lock eyes briefly, but Jungkook does not read into it. Jimin hops off the mattress. The way he unbuckles and tugs on his leather belt, and undoes his pants forces what feels like all of Jungkook's blood into his crotch. Before Jimin notices him ogling, Jungkook pulls at the first shirt his fingers touch and tosses it over haphazardly. "Thanks."

As Jimin throws it on, Jungkook, ambling across the creaky mahogany, takes advantage of the material being pulled over his orange hair to take in as much of his abs and hips as he can. Before he has a moment to reconsider, it comes out. "Nice briefs."

This sparks ticklish laughter from Jimin, whose head emerges from the collar of the navy blue t-shirt. His hair is increasingly disheveled, but it makes his bed-ready state all the cuter. Jimin gives a quick tug at the elastic around his waist, allowing it to snap back playfully, and the quick view of what Jungkook believed to be a light tuff of pubic hair and beginning of his cock is almost enough to knock him out. How he would love to see what Jimin has hidden behind that neon pink fabric.

Distressingly aware of his erection, Jungkook awkwardly perches on the edge of Jimin's mattress, arm and legs crossed tensely. Jimin follows. He rest his weight against Jungkook limply, head tilted upon Jungkook's shoulder, mumbling with heavy eyelids. "Will you stay the night Jungkookie?"

Jimin's bare thighs next to his come into view, and Jungkook sputters.


	2. The Law of Love

**Title:** Student Affair.  
 **Author:** SYNdicate 930.  
 **Summary:** AU. One-shots of Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook, and their attempts at surviving undergrad, and their unruly libidos and constant desire to fuck each other into dust.

 **NOTE:** This is super early in the timeline, so I'm sorry for not having hit sexual things quite yet. Points to whoever can guess who my TWICE bias is. I also don't speak Korean, so I google translate'd Uihag (Medicine) and Munhang (Psyhcology).

If anyone has any insight on what they call each other (ie., xyz calls Jimin "Jiminie" and etc.,) please let me know. I'm a new Army so I have no clue.

 **Monday, September 19th, 14:30**

"I don't like the sounds of this anymore. I don't get why you're doing this."

"You want to get into medicine, and I'm a psych major. Obviously you wouldn't get it."

"This sounds dumb either way."

"Shut up and do the damn thing." Jungkook stares at the thick booklet blankly, eying the title "The Law of Love: Opposites Attract, and Withstand Similarities" underlined in bold black font. Yoongi hands him a couple of pencils and an eraser. "Even if you don't believe in it, just fill the thing out and give it back to me when you're done. You can listen to music while you do it if you want. There are over a hundred questions you have to plow through."

"Over a hundred!?"

"Don't be a baby."

"And that's it, right?" Jungkook takes a seat and, taking Yoongi's suggestion, begins to unravel his tangled earbuds and insert them into the bottom of his phone. "I don't need to do anything else?"

"You should be good." Yoongi turns to leave for the men's room as Jungkook presses play. "For now."

"Did you say something?" Jungkook pulls at an earbud curiously. He had just finished scribbling his name in the top corner.

Yoongi shakes his head. "Nope."

 **Tuesday, September 20h, 8:51**

Jungkook is pacing around behind the Questions and Answers booth desk in the university center exhaustedly, carefully going through the communications binder for any new information. In hindsight, it's a sweet gig that involves answering questions every so often and directing those who are lost, and sitting on his ass and snacking all day. Not to mention the great pay for minimal work. The clock strikes nine o'clock when Jungkook opens the desk gate. And so begins an easy day of surfing the internet mechanically and catching up on supplementary readings.

An hour passes, dragging its heavy feet stubbornly, by the time Jungkook engages in his first conversation. A tall, handsome boy he's seen around the university centre often last year and during the summer, presumably still taking classes. Up close, he looks a tad more stressed than Jungkook would've expected, with faint dark circles below his otherwise bright and breezy eyes. "Excuse me, do you know when and where the pre-medicine students' association is having their first meeting?"

Fuck if I know, he thinks.

"Let me double check." He types into the search bar of their university's website, but to no avail before revisiting the communications binder. There it is. "Okay, so, you'll want to head to the second floor of the Uihag building next to the Munhag building. You can't miss it; Uihag is the one with all the glass and the Caffe Bene sign near the entrance."

"What room?"

"Room 212. I can write it down for you." Jungkook scribbles down the building name, floor, and room number on a bright red sticky note. "Here, in case you forget."

"Nice. Thank you so much." The instant he turns to leave, Jungkook watches stares longingly at his stuffed backpack and well-fitted pants. His maroon cardigan is just long enough to cover his butt, but Jungkook recognizes the amiable shape of his slender calves and thighs before they disappear behind the heavy glass door and then outside. He doesn't have a lot of visitors following his departure. The next few hours are busied with absently reading and browsing the front page of reddit humorously.

Half past noon rolls around with his favorite French-vanilla iced latte and least favorite shirt in Teahyung's closet. It's ill-fitting, an unsavory shade of over-saturate lime, but very much congruent with his 4D personality and quirky peculiarities.

"Hey, when's your break at?"

"Working here is a seven hour paid break." He swirls his drink around, listening to the ice mix before take an exaggerated sip. "Thanks for the drink."

"No worries, I owed you, anyway." Taehyung says as he sips his own from across the desk. A short girl waits in line behind him, and he steps out of her way so she can be helped. Jungkook points in her in the direction of the first year office, and Taehyung continues. "So, how was Yoongi's questionnaire?"

"Good, but way longer than I thought it would be. It was over a hundred 'rate on a scale of one to ten' questions and long answer questions. I was ready to pass out when I was done." He shoots him a tickled stare. "What, did you do it too?"

"Gross, no way. I'm not in the market for dating or meeting people." Taehyung appears almost disgusted at the thought. "Or at least not right now. Yoongi asked if I could play the sax at the event, and I agreed."

"But you fucking suck."

"Is that anyway to speak to your hyung?" He feigns injury, grasping dramatically at his chest.

"Yeah." Jungkook motions for Taehyung to step aside a second time for a pretty girl with bleach blonde hair tied into a high ponytail and gradient red lips. Though a bit sleepy in the eyes, her slender face and double eyelids produce an endearingly soft base facial expression. She's lost her student identification card and Jungkook rummages through the booth's lost and found for it. "What's your name?"

"Park Sooyoung."

"Birthday?"

"September 3rd, 1996."

"ID number?" She bites her bottom lip contemplatively, and Jungkook catches Taehyung mirroring her.

"I think it's 7998082?"

"Got it." He hands it to her, and, with a sweet 'thank you', she's on her merry way. Jungkook whistles. "Damn. Red velvet never looked so good on someone."

"I feel you." Taehyung slides back into view. "Anyway, Yoongi let me see the results, and I think you'll be pleased."

He's piqued Jungkook's easily excitable interest. "Am I with someone we know?"

"Yes. No. Maybe so."

"Spit it out."

"I can't."

"Give me a hint."

"Their last name is 'Park'."

He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Dude, that's a good ten percent of this country."

"Not my problem. At least it isn't 'Kim'."

"You're right. 'Kim' is a dumbass last name."

"Screw off. Either way, you'll figure out who it is when you show up on Friday. Come for eight-thirty to sign in and stuff—you better not forget."

"Yeah, yeah." They take a synchronised sip of their drinks.

"Anyway, I'll catch you at home after class. See ya."

"See ya."

 **Friday, September 23rd, 20:34**

As instructed, with unyielding lanky limbs, Jungkook ambles in a little past eight-thirty in the evening disconcertedly, sporting a pellucid rogue shirt bought yesterday evening just for this occasion. Aberrant jazz is the first thing he notices, enthusiastic as a child, smooth as a sixth shot of whiskey, though, Yoongi's wonderfully composed piano arrangement on stage is vigilantly contrasted by Taehyung's outlandish and vaguely off-beat saxophone rifts. A major chord fades into a minor chord, and Taehyung arches his back comically, forcing out what Jungkook can only assume is every possible note he's every learned to play, which, in turn, has the small crowd huddled by the stage roaring in encouragement.

Numerous minute rounded tables litter the space at well-spaced intervals, with numbers assigned and only enough chairs at each to seat a single incognizant and awkward pair. The LED lights of the psychology student lounge are dimmed to recreate a noticeably forced gregarious tenor that distresses as greatly as it charms. Jungkook worries about his hair, the fit of his shirt, the layer of cologne he thinks he had accidentally overdone, and light eyeliner he thinks might be somewhat overkill.

Before he ventures in too far, he is stopped. "Namjoon?"

"Hey, man." Behind a wooden podium, Namjoon acknowledges Jungkook with a friendly salute and nod before glancing down to his pink clipboard. With a swift movement of his pen, Jungkook watches as he is presented with a large laminated number '4' attached to a black lanyard reading " **U OF B PSYCHOLOGY STUDENTS ASSOCIATION** " in bold yellow letters. "This is just to let you know which table you'll be meeting your date at."

With enflamed ears, Jungkook is far beyond embarrassed to be caught at something like this. "Thanks."

"No worries." With a second glance to his clipboard, a chuckle rumbles in his chest and exits his nose. "Can't wait to see how your night goes."

"What?"

"Nothing." It's when Jungkook opens his mouth that a line forms behind him, and he is forced further into the student lounge feeling increasingly uncomfortable and judged. But he is very aware of his age, and apparent inclination to date and meet new people associated with it, so he reasons that there is nothing to be ashamed of, even if it doesn't feel that way.

 **Friday, September 23rd 21:02**

After having wasted twenty minutes pacing uncomfortably along the walls and going through reddit on his phone, Jungkook is convinced that he will never agree to be a part of his friends' experiments again, especially Yoongi's. Jungkook busies himself with a story on the subreddit Today, I Fucked Up titled "TIFU by Crushing on a Straight Guy as a VERY Gay Male" when an abstracted shoulder collides phlegmatically with another's.

"Hey, sorry about that." He peeks upward from his cellphone to receive the astonished expression that surges across Jimin's previously placid demeanor.

"Hey, you. How's it going?" Jungkook's nod cues Jimin to continue, though he probably would've either way. "Interesting set up for the student lounge, hey?"

"You look good." Sputters Jungkook subconsciously. His breath hitches in embarrassment. Be cool.

"Thanks, you too." And he exhales in relief, taking the response for what it is—a mere pleasantry between acquaintances, or, rather, total strangers. "I didn't think I'd see you here."

"Same here. Did Yoongi get to you too?"

"Yoongi? Ah, I forgot he was a psych major. I just saw a posting on the bulletin board by the bookstore in the university centre and thought I'd give it a try. Taehyung also said he'd be performing and that it'd be a good chance for me to meet people. "

"You're looking to date?" Jungkook is a bit too excited.

"I guess, yeah. Dating is sort of hard for me." Jimin snickers while his frail shoulders create a shallow shrug he barely distinguishes from under his heavy leather jacket. "I mean, I'm not much of a looker, you know."

The notion of someone like Jimin disheartened by diffidence and uncertainty stuns him; with diaphanous clavicles which coo and shy away half-heartedly below elusive fabric cut in a flattering 'V', immersed by nebulously beguiling lights, Jimin's appeal and charisma spirals tenfold. Protests form and evaporate in Jungkook's knotted throat, knowing indefinitely the necessity that is holding one's tongue.

"May I please have your attention." Yoongi's voice is commanding as per usual. Jungkook had been so engrossed by Jimin, that he hadn't noticed the music stopping. "You have all been designated numbers. You are to go to the table with the corresponding number on your lanyard, and that will be your date for tonight based off the questionnaire you've filled out."

There is shuffling and Jungkook and Jimin glance to one another.

 **Friday, September 23rd 21:33**

She had been a pretty girl in her preteens, and currently, Park Jihyo has grown into a remarkably beautiful woman. Given the restricted proximity across the blunt table, her doll-like eyes, straight nose and sweet lips become magnified by the flickering candle between them. He remembers having attended the same middle school and the large oak tree behind the tall, slowly rusting, gates that made going to classes really feel like the prison Jungkook often saw school as. She was top of their class and received all of the solos in the choir, but was always misplaced as the otherwise perfect girl for her weight.

Admittedly, Jihyo had been something of a late first crush; a stable puppy-love that withered in the shadow of Jungkook's awkward youth, silent coming out, and graduation. If rumours at the time were correct, she had ended up attended an all-girls private high school.

"We went to middle school together, right?" She asks with a generous smile. He nods. It is astonishing how much one can change. While he never minded her chubby cheeks and full thighs in the past, he can see how thin her arms have become and a sharper jawline below endearing puffy mounds that are her cheeks and the loveliness her post-pubescent body exudes.

"Yeah, we were in the same seventh and eighth grade class."

"I knew it! You look so familiar. Jeon Jungkook, right?"

"The one and only."

"Oh my gosh, you've grown up so much! And your voice—it's so deep now!"

A vibrant orange—Jimin's hair is the only thing Jungkook can concentrate on as they talk, that blurred color stuck in the corner of his sharp periphery. At this angle, Jungkook can't see who he's been paired with, and, while the uncertainty eats away at him, he's torn between needing to know and not wanting to know. He can see Jimin throw his head back in laughter, and the way he runs his fingers through his locks and leans forward in anticipation in his seat. Oh, the excitement that thrummed through Jungkook's body at the sight of a '4' and the discouragement that shook his system at the sneaky '1' situated proudly on its left. Perhaps it is fate, and perhaps it is far too early for Jungkook to be reading into such miniscule details.

Jungkook and Jihyo chat shallowly, pacing in formal circles with no apparent center or goal. Conversing with her is pleasant, and everything that leaves her mouth has him grinning from ear to ear, but not enough to reach his eyes. There really isn't much to say. If this had been years ago, amidst an awkward stage in puberty and uncontrollable break-outs that rocked his self-esteem to its weak core, Jungkook would have been ecstatic to find whatever reason he could to talk to Jihyo. Staring at her now, with her dark hair grown out to her elbows and bright eyes, Jungkook doesn't feel anything swell in his chest when he looks at her.

Surely something had gone astray in Yoongi's experiment, for he feels nothing; Jihyo is beautiful inside and out, but he feels a distinct lack of attraction. He can only guess the same for her, but Jihyo, in her teens or blossoming twenties, will always be Jihyo, and Jihyo is far too polite to leave or excuse herself so early or point it out. Come to think of it, she would be the perfect girl for Namjoon—relatively effeminate, with a sing-song voice, whose natural charm is constantly accentuated by her sweet personality and calm nature.

A waiter comes by to offer soft drinks and various snacks presented cutely on a round bronze platter. Jungkook grabs a muffin, and Jihyo a small slice of what looks like cheesecake. "Would you like anything to drink?" Asks the waiter.

"Can I have some iced tea?" Formal as always, he thinks fondly.

"And for yourself?"

"I'll have an iced tea too." Jungkook answers.

 **Friday, September 23rd 22:58**

When all is said and done and Jihyo bows her pretty little head before departing, Jungkook is met with a firm hand on his. "So, how'd it go? Man, she's super cute."

He looks behind him. Jimin retracts his hand into his jacket pocket. "It was alright. I actually went to middle school with her, so we caught up a little."

"Childhood friends?"

"Not really. We were in the same class for two years, but we had different groups of friends and interests. I used to have a crush on her, but that was years before my voice decided to drop." Jimin can't help but laugh. "What about you?"

"I was paired with a family friend. In terms of dating one another, we aren't at all, so we just talked and enjoyed the free pastries and drinks the volunteers were serving." He shrugs and Jungkook rises from his seat. "It was nice, but I'm a bit disappointed."

"Why's that?"

"Truthfully, I was hoping to meet someone I could try dating."

You could try dating me. The two are greeted by Taehyung and his pristine saxophone hurdling towards them, followed by Yoongi, colored clip board in hand, and Namjoon. "So, how did it go for the both of you?" Asks Taehyung excitedly.

"It was alright. I had completely forgotten Jihyo's last name is 'Park.' She's so grown up looking now." Answers Jungkook.

He becomes visibly perplexed. "Wait, Jihyo?"

"You know, the girl we went to middle school with who had the super good grades and sang in the choir. You should know I'm more than over her by now."

"I'm so confused, why Jihyo—"

"And I hung out with a childhood friend." Is Jimin's summarized answer.

One by one, participants exit the student lounge in scattered pairs and lone individuals, the latter category Jungkook finds himself with Jimin awkwardly. For similar reasons, Jungkook is a tad dissatisfied with tonight, too.

"Thanks for attending, you two." Yoongi cuts in, jotting down the last of his notes in red pen and then tucking the clipboard under his arm. "I have this place booked all weekend, so I'll come back tomorrow and clean up before Monday if anyone wants to come help. Until then, drinks?"

There is a resounding 'yes' and 'fuck yes'.

"Nice, Namjoon's paying." Yoongi cheers, and the others high five.

"What—no way." He grabs Yoongi's clipboard and hits him with it.

"You owe me."

Namjoon rolls his eyes in submission. "Fine."

"I'll call up Hoseok and Seokjin." Adds Taehyung.

 **Friday, September 23rd, 21:32**

Jungkook often finds Yoongi's utilitarian demeanor startling, no matter the quantity of unprecedented visits this rigidity pays during mundane trials and episodes. Yoongi's intelligence surpasses his physical age astringently, but, upon a shallow glance, hinders his awareness of interpersonal circumstances and pre-existing and possible bonds. He is not a malicious person by neither nature nor opulent nurture—though, his temper could heavily suggests otherwise—but, rather, uncontrollably frank. It is something worth acquainting oneself with in order to process Yoongi to some obtuse degree, if not wholly.

"May I please have your attention. You have all been designated numbers. You are to go to the table with the corresponding number on your lanyard, and that will be your date for tonight based off the questionnaire you've filled out." As people move towards their designated tables, he leaves the stage briefly to look over his clipboard by the door, allowing Taehyung free range to blurt out whatever his heart desires on his saxophone. Everyone appears to have attended, bright red check marks and assigned numbers to indicate their attendance.

"Hey, Namjoon, you switched these two by accident." Namjoon squints his eyes at the attendance list. "She was meant to be number fourteen, and he was meant to be number four with Jungkook."

"My bad. I read Park Jimin as Park Jihyo." Namjoon apologizes. "Should I let them know so they can switch?"

"It's fine. Jungkook used to like Jihyo when he was younger, anyway, right?"

"Yeah. Like, seven years ago. Won't having them together mess with your findings?"

"Whatever, they're already talking."

"If you say so."

"You'll make up for it later." Yoongi mumbles, and Taehyung's saxophone squeaks.

"Did you say something?"

"Nope."


	3. Sleepovers

**Title:** Student Affair.  
 **Author:** SYNdicate 930.  
 **Summary:** AU. One-shots of Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook, and their attempts at surviving undergrad, and their unruly libidos and constant desire to fuck each other into dust.

 **NOTE:** This is a short chapter for this chapter is a rushed hot mess. Enjoy this severely unbeta'd chapter.

 **Friday, December 2nd, 23:55**

There is incoherent shouting echoing from the living room.

Jungkook does not recall agreeing to having a sleep over, nor to offering his living room to do so to Yoongi, Namjoon, an exaggeratedly buoyant Hoseok, who is singing and dancing to "Touch My Body", and remarkably inebriated Seokjin currently hanging off Namjoon's shoulder flaccidly, like a ragdoll without hard wire in its limbs—and, by the second, with great irritation, himself. Clad in his favorite heather grey Calvin Klein briefs, and black pillow, which he utilizes as a make shift shield of sorts, a bit self-conscious of his lean torso and even more so his slowly disappearing erection, Jungkook is torn between kicking out his friends and making sure Seokjin doesn't vomit on the floor. Upon closer inspection, the crew is tremendously intoxicated, rogue cheeks, slightly swaying bodies, and case of the giggles muffled by a hand or shoulder (in Seokjin's case, Namjoon's shoulder), with Yoongi slow to hide behind his clean knuckles.

"Sorry, did we interrupt you?"

Uh, sort of?

Seokjin cuts in.

"Jungkookie, what've you been doing?." Hiccup. Hiccup. "Why do you look so stiff, Jungkookie? Your friends are all 'ere."

"Yeah, why so stiff?" Prods Yoongi, and the group lowers their eyes one by one to Jungkook's crotch, forcing him to lower his pillow at the expense of exposing his broad shoulders. Next to their couch, everyone has piled their winter jackets and scarves one atop another.

"Ah, look at his shoulders! You're so grown up now." Cries Seokjin, who attempts to reach for Jungkook. With two left feet which worsen under the influence, and sensuality varnishing his glazed eyes, the pair collide; Jungkook's arms wrapped tightly around his pillow, and Seokjin's arms wrapped even tighter around his Jungkook. "You should've came out tonight! The food was so good. Like, so, so, so good. I can't even tell you."

Despite having inhaled enough soju to put down both himself and Jungkook, Seokjin is still a well-mannered and sweet-hearted hyung, so he turns away from Jungkook before releasing a tiny burping. In a panic, Jungkook squirms and Seokjin's thigh kneads into his crotch hard enough that their eyes widen in unison.

"Oh my god, Jungkookie, are you—" Don't say it, don't say it, don't fucking say it. "You better make sure you're being safe, you know. You and I are gon' be doctors one day—you should know be'tter. We've all got your back and I suppor' you and your endeavors, but be safe!"

"Please let go of me."

He almost looks offended. Almost.

"Hyung just loves you so much and wants the bes' for you, okay? It's okay, jus' relax Jungkookie." With a short 'I've got this', Namjoon, whose arms are accentuated by the cuffed sleeves of his navy v-neck and living room light, forcibly pries Seokjin off an increasingly distressed Jungkook. If he's never been appreciative of Namjoon before, he most certainly is now.

"No! Let go! I want to be with Jungkookie! I need him t'know how much I care about him—" He protests feebly.

"Let him know when you're sobered up." Is Namjoon's curt reply. In the background, Hoseok is Snapchatting Seokjin's antics silently.

"Hyung will always take care of you, okay, Jungkookie? You can always relax when hyung is around!"

Jungkook can't calm down—not quite yet. When he's embarrassed, cornered and flustered, it is difficult for him to be at ease, even as Seokjin is pulled away, his friends have calmed down, and all is somewhat okay. It's only when Taehyung appears in their apartment doorway that he lets out a heavy sigh. You.

"Okay, guys," He shuts the door behind him with his foot and kicks his sneakers off unceremoniously. Unlike the others, he takes the time to hang his jacket in the closet by the door. "Pick a spot and I'll grab pillows and blankets for everyone. We can watch movies or something if everyone's still awake."

"Dibs on the couch!" Shouts Seokjin.

"You're the drunkest, so that goes without saying." States Namjoon, maneuvering himself and dragging Seokjin around the coffee table and plopping him atop the bright green cusions like a doll; beautiful with porcelain skin, with eyes so lovely they almost look artificial, but in dire need of others to fix its position.

"Guys, be careful, lift the coffee table don't—" The furniture is forced against the wall with a sharp squeak he's sure to hear complaints about from the elderly couple in the suite just below. They pile onto the couch, and huddle around on the floor by each other's legs. "—push it."

He focuses his attention on Taehyung, with his chocolate irises still glossy with soju and beer, the whites of his eyes stained a faint color of pink. Jungkook notes the smell of alcohol on his shirt and gleeful expression as he passes by in the hall. "Suh, dude?"

"Dude, what's everyone doing here?"

He shrugs, slipping his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. A small pause allows him to steer the conversation elsewhere; anywhere but this uncomfortable fork in the road which grates Jungkook's patience. "Oh shit, were you, you know…" Insert an absolutely atrocious body roll and theatrical bite of his lower lip.

"Yeah, sort of." His voice comes out more like a hiss than a whisper, but he isn't sorry. Taehyung's eyes begin to drop and Jungkook shoves him lightly by the shoulder. "Dude, eyes up here."

"Sorry, man."

"What's everyone doing here?"

"It's a sleepover, yo."

"Yeah, I know, but why here? Of all of us, we have the smallest living room." And disproportionately the most amount of things easily damaged by booze and Namjoon, with or without the booze. As if on cue, Namjoon, the God of Destruction, who is staring at a picture of Jungkook and his family hung on the wall by the television, flinches as it drops to the floor, face first and pitiful. He averts his stare instantaneously.

"Hoseok and Seokjin wanted to have a sleepover and no one wanted to offer their place so we all said 'not it' and you lost, so—"

"I wasn't even there!"

"Exactly, so you lost be default." As Taehyung turns to retrieve blankets and pillows from the closet and head into the living room, he continues with a sloppy wink. "Don't worry, though, I'll turn up the volume so we can't hear you two—you better show me a picture or something of her after."

"Me too!" Shouts Hoseok, followed by the rest of the crew.

 **Friday, December 2nd, 23:31**

Shoving him roughly, the back of Jungkook's shaky knees hit his mattress and the two topple over, his body tight against Jimin as they crash against his striped bedsheets. Their limbs tangle together in a mess of fierce gropes and claws, butterflies filling the pit of his toned stomach when Jimin sits up to rip off Jungkook's shirt and then his own, discarding them with a careless toss over a genteel shoulder and redirecting his attention on ridding them of their bottoms.

Jungkook is about to make fun at the way Jimin makes a mess of his room as if it were his own, who is now throwing their jeans and then their boxers to the floor without a single care in the world, but is cut off by the way their lips crush together and the hand that reaches down to touch him, squeeze him, tease him. Fuck.

It makes his back arch into Jimin's torso. His touch is like fire against Jungook's easily flammable skin, burning him, leaving him to squirm uncontrollably, fingers slowly dancing away from his erection and, in the blink of an eye, Jungkook throws him onto the bed, positions reversed. He lies there blushing as Jungkook caresses his legs, forcing his way into the space between Jimin's strong thighs.

"Whoa there, tiger." Jungkook smiles. "Aren't you excited?"

"Look who's talking."

"I didn't expect you to be so—Ah..." The grip he has around Jungkook is enthralling.

Pulling him down by a handful of dark locks, Jimin kisses him roughly, nipping impatiently at his bottom lip as if begging for something sweet, something nice, something hot, anything in return. Jungkook complies more than willingly, his lips parting, throat emitting low groans, body reacting immediately as he curves his back and grinds his hips. They pull away for air aggressively, absentmindedly.

"What was that?" Jimin can't help but snicker. "You didn't expect me to be so—"

Impatiently, Jungkook reaches into bottom drawer of his night stand and prepares Jimin for something much larger than his fingers, moving his lubed fingers erratically and quickly and then slowly, giving no time for him to adjust to any intrusion or movement. All he can do is bite his lip before he is all flustered moans and hazy stare, all of which make Jungkook throb in need at the sight and lovely sound.

"Faster, please, Jungkookie…" Timing is everything, and Jungkook knows they have plenty of time to take it slow and make him want it, beg for it. "Wow, look at our golden maknae now—"

"Shut the fuck up." His teeth come down on Jimin's lush bottom, drawing out a breathy gasp, shivers running up and down his spine at the rawness this side of Jimin so comfortably exudes. When Kagami thinks he's getting used to it, Aomine decides to pull out and push himself in when— There is incoherent shouting echoing from the living room.

"Sorry, did we interrupt you?"

 **Saturday, December 3rd, 0:18**

"Is everything alright?"

Jungkook is careful not to open the door too much when he enters his room. He nods and hops onto his bed, sending Jimin flying sideways against the wall. "Taehyung and the gang are here."

"What?"

"They all got drunk and decided to sleep over."

"Why here?"

"They all said 'not it' before me, so by default I lost."

"You weren't even there."

"Right?" Shifting on the bed to sit closer to him, wrapping the blanket around her small figure as well, he tries to revive their paused intimacy, their clothes still sprawled about his floor.

Jungkook starts with the back of Jimin's hand, parting his lips ever so slightly to let the tip of his tongue to draw circles, with kisses that follow up his arm, towards his shoulder. He moves along Jimin's jawline, surprisingly awkward and a tad overexcited, creating a string of kisses that dip below to his sensitive neck, feeling the goes bumps and rapid beating of his pulse in his throat as he pecks it carefully, as if any intensity could shatter him completely.

From there, he douses his collar bone in sweet kisses, a trail produced by quivering lips south, chuckling in amusement as he reaches Jimin's hips that buck with harsh pants, dulcet cries. His dark hair disappears under his sheets.

Feeling playful, he passes Jimin's erection to pay attention to his lovely hip bones, licking and nipping down and in between his thighs, his hands reaching to grope the soft skin, snickering at the frustration in his voice as his knuckles brush against the tip of Jimin's cock.

He sucks so hard, he hickies along his inner thighs, red blotches lining the pale skin in differing size and color as his drags his tongue upwards along his tensing muscle. Jimin's far too entranced to care—Jungkook could cover his body right now and he wouldn't care. He kisses the tip of Jimin's erection, adoring the hunger, the sensual greed of his groans and eager roll of his hips as he slackens his jaw to take more of him in, letting him thrust softly and do as he pleases. Teasingly, Jungkook presses down on Jimin's hips to keep him still to bob his head sowly, coaxing beautiful noises, words, and breaths before pulling away and releasing the tip of his lover's mouth with a playful 'pop'. He grins from ear to ear at Jimin growling in frustration.

When emerges from beneath his comforter, he can distinguish the lust smoldering in his eyes, the part of his lips as he inhales and exhales heavily, his heavy chest, trembling body, ready and waiting for what and who is to come.

"Jungkookie, we should probably stop. Everyone's here."

"They're all going to sleep soon. Don't worry about it." Smirking, he hovers over Jimin to peck the corners of his mouth, left and then right, his pale cheeks burning like a wildfire, before planting a gentle kiss on his lips. Jimin parts his legs, Jungkook shimmying his way out of his soaked briefs. "Wanna pick up where we left off?"

He nods. "I thought I'd get myself ready while you were out of the room…" He trails off.

Jungkook pats around the bed in search of lube, and makes sure to cover himself excessively, wanting nothing more than Jimin and for him to feel minimal discomfort. The head of his cock rests in anticipation at its entrance. "Are you ready?"

A fixated nod. A soft stare. A sweet kiss. A raucous banging on his door. A delirious Seokjin in Jungkook's doorway.

"Ya, everyone is already asleep and I'm wide awake. Jungkookie feed me." Jimin ducks his head under the blanket and Jungkook covers whatever he can of himself. Seokjin stumbles towards the bed.

"Seokjin, what are you doing?"

"I'm so hungry. Let's go get chicken—I really want friend chicken." He hops onto the bed. On his right, Jimin's body is warm and stiff, on his left, Seokjin flails his arms in complaint.

"Why are you even drunker than before?"

"Taehyung wanted to take shots so we took shots." He sneaks his way under the covers. Jungkook has to hold down the sheets near his legs to keep himself hidden.

"Why would you guys keep drinking?"

"Because why not?" Seokjin makes a gagging noise.

"Because that."

"Jungkookie, before we get chicken, let me close m'eyes for ten minutes." He falls unconscious almost immediately.

Jungkook tries to wake him up, voice just above a whisper into the shell of Seokjin's ear, but to no avail. "Seokjin? Hey, Seokjin, get up. You can't fall asleep here. You can go sleep in the living room with everyone else.

Silence.

"Seokjin?"

Snore.

God damnit.

"Jimin?"

Snore.

Jungkook, naked in the same bed as these two, is stuck between a rock, and a dangerously inebriated Seokjin. He can only assume this is what it must be like to be in the middle of a human centipede.


End file.
